


Laughter In The Garden

by Bellairian



Series: Aunt Prudence's Scrapbook [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Sad and Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 00:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellairian/pseuds/Bellairian
Summary: A long, long time ago I wrote a lot of MFMM stories. I deleted most of them, but I always loved the ones I wrote that featured Aunt Prudence.Miss Ash's funny, lovely "The Details of Fate" reminded me how much I loved writing this story - I hope you'll enjoy reading it.





	Laughter In The Garden

**Author's Note:**

> For my friends in the CLLB on Instagram - bisous!

Phryne made her way to the drinks cart, her expression pensive. “Jack," she said as she poured, "that was Aunt P on the telephone. She’s invited us to stay overnight after the gala tomorrow.”

He looked up from the newspaper. “Oh?”

“It was rather odd. She said something about not driving after drinking champagne all evening and we might want to consider the consequences of a police officer and a lady detective being stopped on the way home.”

“That’s reasonable, I suppose,” he said as she handed him a glass. “Although it’s unlikely. If it came to that, we could always have the red raggers drive us home.”

“Bert and Cec will have valet duties at the party. No, I think there’s more to it than that.” Phryne sipped her whiskey and considered for a moment. “I think she might be lonely. With Arthur gone her days must be very different to what they were.”

Jack put the paper down. “What do you want to do?”

“Would you mind terribly missing your early morning ride? You and I could have a lazy morning while she’s at church. Then we could have lunch with her and be back home with enough time for you to go for a ride afterward.”

The thought of cycling for miles after a heavy Sunday lunch wasn’t particularly tempting. “I’d prefer something less strenuous after lunch, I think. Mrs. Stanley’s cook is good but she doesn’t have Mr. Butler’s light touch.”

“We could take a long walk around the grounds or…” 

Jack’s expression brightened. "Or we could finally play that croquet game you promised me."

“You’re bound and determined, aren’t you?”

“I’ll keep my end of the bargain and wear that costume, Cleopatra,” he reminded her. “It’s only fair you keep yours, isn’t it?”

…

Watching Jack, clad in lightweight trousers and with his shirtsleeves rolled up, carefully measure distances and set up the croquet court was highly entertaining.

Phryne waited until he walked back to her. “The last two hoops are pushed down further than the others.”

He turned and eyed them. “They look right to me.”

“I’m sure they aren’t.”

“Are you sure it isn’t just a trick of distance? An optical illusion?”

She slipped her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and peered intently. “No, it isn’t a trick of distance. They’re lower than the others. Would you mind fixing them?”

Jack was certain she was going to do whatever she could to distract him from the game. But the sight of her lounging, bare-legged and barefoot, with a slight breeze fluttering the hem of her dress over her knees was worth every minute.

“I’m sure you’d want this to be perfect for us,” she shifted on her chaise and raised a knee, just enough to be intriguing. “Antony.”

“Your wish is my command, my queen” he replied, feathering a touch over the knee the breeze had obligingly bared.

“Thank you.” Phryne smiled and settled back to enjoy him walking away from her and then bending down to adjust the hoops.

When he turned to walk back to her again she slipped her sunglasses down another inch and didn’t bother to hide how much she was enjoying the view. “That looks perfect,” she purred when he was once again beside her.

He didn’t dare stand next to her for long – she was stretching on the chaise as languidly as a cat and there was no telling what she might do next – so instead he offered a hand to help her up.

Phryne rose and tugged his hand. He glanced down at her sandals peeking from under the chaise. “No shoes?”

“Jack, what’s the fun of playing if I can’t feel the grass between my toes?”

They walked to the court and she assumed the least correct stance possible – feet too far apart, derrière far too high – and waited for his reaction. This was going to be far more fun than a game involving wooden mallets had a right to be.

…

Jack watched in disbelief as Phryne completed yet another perfect stroke and her balls hit the peg.

“Alright, Miss Fisher, it’s time for a full confession.” He grinned, reaching for her. “Where, and when, did you learn to play croquet so well?”

The mischief in her eyes was unmistakable. “You’ll never make me talk, Inspector,” she challenged, “even if you lock me up and throw away the key!” She slipped out of his arms and took off running, barefoot and laughing. “And you’d have to catch me first!” she shouted over her shoulder.

…

The sound of laughter floating through the open windows overlooking the back lawn roused Mrs. Stanley from her after lunch nap.

She gazed out to see Phryne running across the lawn with Jack in pursuit. They were both laughing. Oh my, she thought, I’ve never heard Jack laugh before. I saw him smiling at the gala last night, and he smiled at lunch today, but laughing? This is new.

Jack caught up to Phryne and captured her around the waist. Phryne’s giggles were punctuated with a squeal or two and fluttering bare feet as he lifted her up. He set her down gently, his arms resting lightly on her sides and her arms linked around his neck.

Another moment, just as intimate, rose in Prudence’s mind: a sunny afternoon and Edward smiling as he lifted her in delight when they won their first game together. Even after all these years she remembered perfectly feeling far too warm in her long white dress and wide-brimmed hat when his hands lingered on her waist. It was one of her favorite memories of him.

I miss those lazy Sunday afternoons with our friends and family. We taught all the children to play. We had tea in the shade for the adults while the children darted in for lemonade and pulled off their shoes and socks and ran back out to play tag or hide and go seek. I miss…

I mustn’t, she admonished herself and blinked back a tear. I must keep looking forward.

When she opened her eyes again Jack and Phryne were walking hand-in-hand back toward the house, bumping shoulders and smiling at each other.

Laughter mingled with snippets of their conversation drifted up to her. Uncle Edward taught us all… Why do you dislike it so much now... Bored to tears playing at finishing school... Much more fun playing with you... Playing? You trounced me… I know!

They glanced up and saw her. Phryne waved.

“Aunt P!” she called gaily, sounding very much like the girl she’d once been. “Come play!”

“But there are only three of us,” Prudence replied. “I don’t have a partner."

“Partner with me, Mrs. Stanley,” Jack said. “You’re my only hope of winning.” He glanced at Phryne, who promptly started laughing again.

“Two against one?” Phryne managed between giggles. “That hardly seems fair!”

Jack chuckled in response. “Your uncle taught you too well.”

It’s lovely to hear laughter in my garden again, Prudence thought. It would be lovely to play again. She went downstairs to join her family.


End file.
